


Ordinary Things in Extraordinary Places

by TheBookTheDragonSaved



Series: I will write this ship or I will die trying. [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: -Ish, Bars and Pubs, Cannon-level messed-up-ness and no more, Crack, F/M, Gen, Grief, Humor, IN SPACE!, Intense staring contests, Mantis is tougher than you think, Not a One shot anymore, One Shot, One of My Favorites, Sneakiness, So there are more tags now, Sometimes you need a friend who understands, Understanding, We need more Loki and Mantis, making new friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookTheDragonSaved/pseuds/TheBookTheDragonSaved
Summary: In which Mantis picks Loki up at a bar after engaging in a pissing contest to see who can guess the most about the establishment’s customers.Exactly what it says on the tin.
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill, Groot & Rocket Raccoon, Loki & Mantis (Marvel), Loki & Peter Quill, Loki/Mantis (Marvel), Mantis & Guardians of the Galaxy Team, Mantis & Peter Quill, Peter Quill & Guardians of the Galaxy Team
Series: I will write this ship or I will die trying. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726816
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	1. What I guess is now Chapter 1, because it's not a one shot anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised that it's a little clunky for the first few paragraphs - please bear with it; it does get better. I'll rewrite it eventually.

So, they’d saved another planet today. It didn’t give quite the same thrill the eighth time as the first, but Mantis was proud to see her family finally growing into their title as the Guardians of the Galaxy.

She wished she didn’t have to see it from quite this close though, as Drax jolted her with his elbow and two more people brushed past her shoulder, sending her emotions pinwheeling. As quickly as possible, she excused herself from their table and squeezed through the crowd of raucous admirers, who were all too busy shouting at the other Guardians to notice her.

There was an empty stool at the bar, and she slipped into it gratefully, ordering a Malitch Turner (a slightly peppery mixture of crushed roots and fermented berries). The barkeeper nodded and went to make it after placing a shot glass in front of the man on the stool to her left, who immediately threw it back with a grimace.

Curious, and eager for something to distract her from the crush of people, Mantis observed him out of the corner of her eye. His clothing blended perfectly with the other occupants of the grungy bar, though it looked slightly better made, and he was humanoid. The only thing to denote he wasn’t a local was his shoulder-length black hair – severely out of fashion in the local systems. He had a look in his eye that made her think that shot hadn’t been his first drink of the night.

Seeming to sense her gaze on him, his head lifted and he caught her watching. He spoke the local language, but with an accent her translator couldn’t place. “Can I help you?” he asked harshly. 

Mantis shook her head. “No.” The man kept staring at her. She was probably being weird – she was usually being weird.

After a moment more, recognition dawned in his eyes. “You’re one of the Guardians. Mantis, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” There was a pause, and she realised that more was probably needed. “The others are over there.” She pointed to what could be seen of the corner table through the obscuring crowd, just as another round of uproarious laughter started.

“I noticed,” replied the man dryly, glancing over briefly before returning his gaze to her. “So,” he continued. “Touch empath. I’ve never heard of a species quite like that before.” He seemed less wary now, more idly curious. She thought that he might be looking for a distraction too, and the room was loud, so she nodded.

“I don’t know my species either,” she related, thanking the bartender as her drink arrived at turbo speed. (There were perks to being a planet-saver.)

“How does it work?” the man asked, once she’d accepted it.

Mantis took a sip, appreciating the coolness in the heavily populated room. “Empathy?”

“Right,” he confirmed. “What’s it like?”

“More.”

“More?”

“More,” Mantis repeated. “As far as I know, my senses are the same as most people’s – when I’m not touching someone. But when I am, I see more.” People, even people who’d asked, would usually get confused, or bored with her, very quickly, but this man seemed to be following her explanation perfectly fine.

“Sounds exhausting,” he said flatly, startling a laugh out of her with his accuracy. “And not particularly useful,” he added.

Her face morphed into a frown. “It is useful.”

“If you have to touch someone to read them?” She watched him raise a dismissive eyebrow, and wondered if she’d be able to copy him if she tried. “What good is that across a battlefield?”

Mantis frowned again. “It is interesting,” she revised. “I like being able to look at someone and _see_ them. And I don’t always have to be touching them to guess,” she added petulantly.

There was a creak as the man turned his barstool further towards her. “And are you any good? At guessing?”

That was a hard question. Mantis was not a vain creature; far from it. But her empathy was one thing she took pride in, and this man was insulting it. She finally settled on: “I have met no one better,” which was true.

It also seemed to be exactly what the man had been looking for, as a sharp grin settled over his face. She thought their conversation had ended when he turned back to the bar but after a moment, he spoke again. 

“So,” he began slyly, turning his head to look her up and down. “How _does_ one go from being a-” He paused and cocked his head to one side “-slave, to a Guardian of the Galaxy?” Mantis, who had returned to her drink in the pause, immediately shot her head up to stare at him wide-eyed. He had a smirk on his face, which she once again found herself wishing she could emulate, and his green eyes were narrowed in challenge.

Immediately recognizing the man’s invitation for what it was, Mantis weighed her options carefully. The Guardians (especially Rocket and Peter) often engaged in one-upmanship contests, and seemed to enjoy placing their fragile egos on the line at any time of the day. Mantis found watching these amusing but, as no one on the ship shared her skillset, had been unable to participate herself. Perhaps, if she were very fortunate, this might be an opportunity for a challenge.

“Good luck, mostly,” she replied, then scanned the man in return, starting with the easiest bits. She evaluated his posture, as she suspected he had done hers. “So,” she began innocently, mimicking his tone. “How does a nobleman’s son end up on the far side of the galaxy without a bodyguard?”

He grinned wider. “Bad luck, mostly.” Then, “Sorry about your father.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry you think you can’t go home.”

She saw the edge of a scowl appear, though she doubted anyone else would have noticed. “It’s a little more than _think_ ,” he replied irritably, a little viciousness creeping into his tone as he continued. “It’s a pity about your …aunt? Teammate,” he corrected when she glanced unintentionally back towards the Guardians.

“The Blip,” Mantis simplified, not willing to go into the details of Gamora’s death, return as an alternate version of herself, and then subsequent departure from the Guardians. “And it _is_ ‘think’. If you already know they’ll take you back, then the only thing holding you here is your pride. Family should not be taken for granted,” she lectured.

His eyes narrowed further – like snake-eyes – and his tone soured. “Let’s keep to the past, shall we? I’m not in the mood to discuss the future.” Apparently finished being evaluated himself, he looked around and pointed to a customer prodding furiously on her holo-pad at the corner of the bar. “Work trouble, or family trouble?”

“Work,” said Mantis immediately, taking in the remnants of a professional expression which still lingered on the woman’s face, even in casual clothes. It had likely been plastered on for twenty-odd years, worn at weddings and funerals alike. She wondered if it would stay on for the next thirty.

“Not bad,” said the man, all traces of annoyance already vanished without trace. “You’re right: she’s run the same shipping company for eighteen years – I spoke with her earlier.”

“Him,” Mantis said in return, pointing to a middle-aged man who had come up to thank her when she’d first entered the bar, now sitting with his arm around a woman of about the same age. _His wife,_ she thought.

“Adores his family,” began her companion.

“Obviously.”

He paused. “Two children,” he guessed ambitiously, and then slightly more easily: “One of them is missing after today’s events, but the other is perfectly fine.”

“Three,” Mantis corrected, impressed despite the slight error, “But one of them moved out several years ago. Of the two still under their care, you are right.”

“Close enough,” he said flippantly, and she had to agree. She’d never met someone who understood the things she could see, let alone could guess them himself, and before long she was enjoying herself immensely – a perfect distraction. Despite his initial defensiveness, she thought he seemed to find her entertaining too, and their conversation became steadily more enthusiastic throughout the evening, dragging on long into the night:

“Family man. Definitely.”

“Family ma- My dear, are you insane?”

“Are you? Family man!”

“Just don’t be upset when you’re wrong – I’ll ask this time.”

“So? What did he say?”

“Work! He’s a writer, you see. Gets _incredibly_ absorbed in his characters.”

“You’re lying!”

“Quite possibly.”

“Humph. What about her?”

“Which?”

“Red skirt. Over there.”

“I see her. Oh, _Hel_ heim – I don’t know.”

“Me neither.”

“What an odd creature she is.”

“I want to meet her. Come on. Come _on_!!”

<><><><><>

Peter rubbed his eyes, and drew blearily upright, swearing as he hit the bunk above him and set his whole head ringing. Except, wait a minute; it had been ringing anyway. How much had he _drunk_ last night? He’d asked Drax to keep an eye on his alcohol intake, but on second thought, that had probably been next to useless, as the big lug could inhale barrels of booze without breaking a sweat.

Peter pawed around the floor for a box of hangover patches, keeping his eyes screwed shut. Ahah! Found them. He slapped one on his arm, and sat down on the floor against his bed as he waited for his headache to abate. It was lucky that he did wait, because when he finally felt ready to open his eyes, he found the floor ahead of him a literal minefield. And not the ‘literally’ that people use when they actually mean ‘figuratively’. The floor was _literally_ strewn with explosives.

“ROCKET,” he roared instantly. “ROCKET; GET IN HERE!” The volume hurt his head like an axe-stroke, but he still felt a lot more anger than pain. “What the hell?” he accused, when a furry head poked around the doorframe. “What did we say about leaving mines on the floor when you head to bed, moron? I could have blown us all sky high!”

The raccoon shrugged. “I got distracted.”

Peter thought he might explode, even without the mines’ help. “You got-”

“Jeez, Quill, relax!” Rocket interrupted. “They’re mostly deactivated. Besides, you’da been distracted last night too, if you hadn’t been puking your guts out.” He glanced around and lowered his voice, as if imparting some deep secret. “Mantis brought home a guy,” he hissed.

It took a minute for Peter to register exactly what Rocket had said, and by then his head had disappeared from the doorway. “Mantis brought home a _what?_ ” Peter squeaked.

Suddenly, everything else seemed a lot less important, and Peter was already halfway through the pile of explosives before he registered that Rocket had only said ‘ _mostly_ deactivated’. He went much more gingerly after that, but eventually he made it to the kitchen, where – sure enough – there was Mantis, seated across from what looked to Peter like one of the locals and talking avidly with him, while Rocket, Drax and Groot hung around, all pretending (badly) that they weren’t listening in.

“Exactly!” the dude was saying. “And then they eat the food that _your_ grain treaty provided, and use the weapons that _you_ bargained with Vanaheim for, but they still won’t admit that you might actually have some value!”

“No one appreciates good people-skills,” Mantis said solemnly.

“Thank you!”

“Absolutely. How many scrapes do you think I could have gotten this group of idiots out of, if they would just listen to me?” Mantis didn’t seem to care that every one of the ‘group of idiots’ could hear her.

“Tens, I should think,” the guy said.

“At least! But then Peter is all ‘But it doesn’t _matter_ that you both like rainbows, Mantis; they’re already shooting at us.’ And before I can say ‘Not just _like_ , Peter – see how he’s looking at it? They must be the symbol of a local deity,’ everyone’s already stabbing each other!”

To be fair to himself, Peter thought, he had assumed ‘I like rainbows’ had been just another weird Mantis thing. Those happened a lot, and she never explained herself afterwards. How was he supposed to have known what it meant?

The guy, however, had been nodding in agreement the whole time. “I know precisely what you mean. My brother brought an army to our gate once, and I turned them back by promising to clear their king’s summer castle of a particularly nasty rat infestation.”

“Now _that_ is forward-thinking,” Mantis declared admiringly, before glancing briefly upwards and catching Quill in the door. “Peter!” she said happily, bouncing up to hug him as if she hadn’t just been badmouthing him in front of the whole crew. “This is Loki.” She gestured towards her new friend, who inclined his head slightly, with a look in his eyes that sort of made Peter want to get far, far away. The next words out of Mantis’s mouth made this much harder. “I offered him a lift to the next star system,” she said animatedly.

“If that’s acceptable to the captain, of course,” added Loki smoothly. The flattery didn’t hurt, but Peter might still have said no if he hadn’t balked at Mantis’s face (the same, purposely creepy one with the glassy eyes that had gotten criminals to spill their secrets on more than one occasion). He realised that if he refused this one, she’d probably dose him with enough embarrassment to keep him blushing for a week – a genuinely awful experience, he could attest – and suddenly he couldn’t cave fast enough.

“Sure thing,” he promised, and Mantis’s creepiness vanished like rainclouds when the sun comes out.

“Thank you!” She kissed him on the cheek, then ran over to yank Loki out of his seat, which he allowed quite happily. Peter stood aside so they could get through the door, shifting awkwardly under Loki’s intense stare, and then he was left in total silence with the other Guardians, who all looked just as utterly baffled, bamboozled and bemused as he was.

“I just don’t understand how someone so ugly could ensnare someone so attractive,” said Drax finally.

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

<><><><><>

Loki studied the one Mantis had identified as Peter closely, then closed the door behind them as Mantis led him out into the corridor for a tour of their ship.

“What a sad, sad man,” he remarked.

Mantis rolled her eyes (an expression she’d grown fond of very quickly once he’d taught it to her) and made a grumbling sound. “I’m working on it,” she promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started because I was being discouraged about all the reasons that Mantis and Loki might be hard for people to write, and one of the things was 'because they can't do normal things, like pick each other up at a bar'. Except then my brain spewed out the idea of one of the Guardians going: "Mantis brought back a _booooy_ ," and it spiralled. Massively.
> 
> Set after Endgame, except that Loki survived, then hid, and won't go back because he's ashamed that he didn't try to help Thor during the five years. Not necessarily a slash thing, just added the tag, because why not?
> 
> My brain did go further into the story, but I think it works best as a one-shot. Still, if anyone else feels like writing the first time Loki pulls out a knife and stabs someone and the Guardians go 'woah, dude! chill!', please do! Or the first time the Guardians twig that Mantis picked up a prince; or re-meeting Thor when they find Loki in what's left of Asgard, and confusing him because Mantis and Loki have already met. Or anything. Literally anything about these two. I'm desperate; seriously.
> 
> Uh - any typos/suggestions, please say so... Love chatting with people in comments.. Kudos always appreciated... And I think that's it! Have a nice day, everyone!!!
> 
> \- TheBookTheDragonSaved


	2. Silence in the libra- nope. On the ship; silence on the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! I said I would add a chapter, and in a two day burst, here it is. I hope you enjoy - it is a liiiittle bit sadder than the first.

_10 days later – 39 days to go before reaching Loki’s drop-off point_

Peter did not like having Loki on his ship. He did not like the man’s insistence on remaining a total mystery; did not like the sheer amount they did not know about the person he had allowed among his crew; and especially did not like what he _did_ know. Years of experience in the unforgiving world of mercenary space had left Peter with an exceptional ‘bad news’ radar, and Loki sent alarm bells ringing through his head every time they occupied the same room.

It made him nervous then, to have Mantis, the most naïve member of his crew, in such close proximity to the intruder, and more engaged with him than he had ever seen her. The two spent hours every day together, seeming always to have something new to talk about: species and planets that he had never heard of; and some obscure school of physics that Loki seemed to have expertise in. It stirred a protective instinct in Peter which he had never before had much reason to exercise, but which rose full force whenever Mantis and Loki were together outside of his view; and caused him no end of anxiety.

Today though, none of that seemed important.

The last eight hours had been as draining as any Peter could remember: They had set down on a forest-cutting planet with orders to poke around for the meaning of some misplaced zeros in the books that their employer could find no explanation for. They had expected some light embezzlement, maybe some illegal weapons-smuggling – but what they had found were seven Ithari children, all between the ages of 6 and 12, malnourished and tear-stained, reeking and chained to a pipe in the back of a warehouse. 

Some days, being a mercenary was fun.

Some days, it wasn’t.

The authorities had been called, and arrived within barely fifteen minutes thanks to some wrangling by their (extremely wealthy) employer. She too had arrived, a grey-haired woman in her fifties with a severe expression that broke for just a moment upon the sight of the children, then slammed back down harder as she walked briskly off in the direction of the head officer. The Guardians, after giving their statements to local law enforcement, had been cleared to leave, and had wandered back dazedly to the ship, physically unharmed, but emotionally exhausted. Even Drax had been quiet, and where Peter had spent the morning fussing about leaving Loki alone with the ship, he now said nothing as he trudged up the ramp and busied himself at the controls.

Dinner was nearly silent, and eaten in the mess hall, unusual when they were parked planet-side. Although Peter could see Loki glancing round inquisitively, he didn’t ask about their day, for which Peter was grateful. At least the guy could read a room.

<><><><><>

Loki sat silently, watching the solemn faces of his (temporary) ship-mates. They had seemed in good enough spirits upon their departure that morning, and the ever-curious, ever-reaching part of his psyche desired greatly to explain the shift in their mood. But most of them barely tolerated his presence at all, and he was reasonably certain Mantis would explain later, so he left them to their brooding.

It was Mantis who finished her meal first, and rose soundlessly to take the dish-washing station – though Loki was sure it was not her turn. Tree (‘Groot’, Loki reminded himself, as the Guardians were currently unaware of his Allspeak) yawned widely throughout the meal and, clearly exhausted, was the next to leave for the kitchen without even asking about dessert for the first time since Loki had known him. He did not return immediately, however, and Loki thought he heard hushed whispers from the kitchen before Tree emerged and, rather than going immediately to bed, sat moodily on a nearby couch.

Resolving to be the last to finish, and therefore have an opportunity to speak with Mantis after the others had gone, Loki watched as one by one they each finished their food and dropped it off in the kitchen, before moving off: Quill and Drax down the corridor, and Rocket, after methodically licking his plate clean, to where Groot was sat.

“Buddy,” he rasped. “You gotta go to bed.”

“I am Groot,” (I don’t want to), was the obstinate reply. Loki resisted the urge to quirk an eyebrow; Groot was obviously barely staying awake.

“Groot, it’s bedtime,” Rocket said firmly.

“I am Groot.” (It’s not _your_ bedtime.)

Rocket paused. “Sure it is,” he said easily. A lie, clearly. The raccoon stayed up half the night even on good days. If he reacted to trauma the way most people did, then this night he wouldn’t sleep at all.

“I am Groot.” (I don’t believe you.) Apparently, the tree agreed with Loki’s assessment.

Rocket just sighed. “Tell ya what,” he said. “We can both get ready for bed together, alright? Then you can sleep in my room, and keep an eye on me, and make sure I’m not lying.”

“…I am Groot.” (Okay.)

Loki watched as they shuffled out of the room towards Rocket’s sleeping quarters, hearing water turned on and off as they executed their sleeping rituals, then finished his meal with perfect manners and gravitated towards the kitchen.

Mantis was bent alone over the last few dishes, her hair obscuring her face as she scrubbed them rhythmically. She glanced up briefly as he placed his own beside her, but otherwise did not respond. Her skin looked paler even than her usual shade, and her eyes seemed dim.

“Did Groot and Rocket both leave for sleep?” she asked, just when he had been about to inquire as to the day’s events.

Instead of doing so, he answered her question, the quiet air of the ship lowering the volume of their speech. “Yes, though not without some wrangling on Groot’s part.” Mantis nodded, a motion he only saw by the movement of her hair. “What-” he began.

“And Drax?” Mantis continued. This was the first time she had ever interrupted him.

“Gone outside,” Loki replied, closing his mouth.

She set aside the spray-head, head still bowed, and moved past him to put away the plates. “To sharpen his knives, no doubt,” she said to herself.

“No doubt,” Loki echoed. He waited for a moment, to see if she would interrupt him again, then asked, “Mantis, what happened?”

This time she did turn to look at him, and he was struck by how visibly tired she was, and especially by how contrary it was to her usual ‘young-doe-in-the-headlights’ appearance. She stilled for a moment, shoulders tensed, then the towel was carefully returned to its hook, and she shook her head apologetically. “Not now,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Later. I must-” She cut off, and they shared a moment of noiseless communication, her eyes imploring, until Loki nodded.

Mantis mustered a grateful half-smile as she walked past him out of the kitchen. He was then left standing alone on the tiled floor, heart unsettled by her sudden seriousness. He stood motionless beneath the buzzing white light for a moment longer, before flicking the switch to plunge the room into darkness and heading towards his own quarters.

For some reason, the Guardians had a much larger ship than they really needed, and of reasonably high quality, so Loki had been allotted his own room with two beds. Almost courteous of the captain, although he couldn’t help but notice that in placing him there, Quill had put him as far away from the rest of the crew as possible, and farthest away from Mantis. He sat on his bed and ran a brief test of his magic, making sure the door was closed; summoned and banished his knives a few times for practise; then removed his shoes and changed into some softer clothes. He had bought them only for appearance’s sake, to fill the wardrobe the Guardians had provided, but now could not help being somewhat appreciative. It had been a long time since his life had allowed for any kind of before-bed routine.

The one irritating thing about having quarters so far away from the others, was that the working bathrooms were all on the other half of the ship. He was careful to tread lightly as he passed the doors to the various Guardians’ rooms, splashing his face with water in the bathroom, and casting a quick charm to clean his teeth before making his way back, one hand on the metal wall for balance in the semi-darkness. The ship was eerily quiet at night. Even the near-constant hum of the engines would be silenced for as long as they remained on land. The corridors were lit only by a very faint white glow falling from a series of tubes that ran along the ceiling, and the flicker of tiny yellow and blue lights flashing at him as he moved past, bare feet tracing noiselessly across the floor.

There was a faint snoring from Rocket’s room, and silence from Drax’s, but Loki paused his trek back to his room at the sound of hushed voices coming from the helm. Still yet to reach an age where self-preservation could outweigh curiosity, he poked his head around the side of the doorframe, so see Quill standing facing out the window towards a sky of wheeling stars, and Mantis behind him with a hand on his arm.

“-all exhausted,” she was saying.

“I’m fine, Mantis,” replied Quill tersely.

“You are not fine,” Mantis insisted, and Loki saw the two glowing points above her head move back-and-forth as she shook her head vehemently, two more flying points of light in the night sky. “You _must_ sleep, Peter. How will you fly the ship if you cannot keep your eyes open?”

“I’m not tired.”

Mantis was silent for a moment, then: “ _Slee-_ ”

Quill pulled his arm out of her grasp with the speed of a gunshot. “Don’t even try it,” he snapped, moving so the captain’s chair was between them, a position which meant Loki could now see both their faces in profile, illuminated by starlight. Mantis’s eyebrows were creased in a mixture of anger and anguish, in a display of more negative emotion than he had ever thought to see on her.

“Peter, I am only trying to help,” she tried.

“I don’t need it.”

Mantis reached for him across the chair, but Quill stepped out of reach again. “Please let me help,” she pleaded.

“No,” said Quill stubbornly.

“The crew is depending on you,” Mantis argued.

Quill crossed his arms. “The crew is fine.”

Still, she persisted. “You must take care of yourself,” she told him. “You will run yourself into the ground.”

“Just _leave it_ , Mantis.” Quill’s voice held the unmistakable tone of command, and Mantis fell into silence, so that Loki thought she might just give up, and prepared to remove himself from the doorway so she wouldn’t see him as she left. But then her voice came out again, barely higher than a whisper.

“Peter, you are frightening me.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, but the effect on the Captain’s posture was instantaneous. His fists unclenched; his arms fell to his sides; and he seemed to melt inwards slightly. His voice broke. “No, Mantis-”

“I know you miss Gamora, but I am still here,” Mantis begged, and Quill flinched at the name. “And Rocket is here, and Groot, and Drax. We are all still here, and I know how much you loved her-”

“Mantis-”

“-you know I understand that, but is there really so little left to live for?” Mantis’s eyes glittered unhappily in the light of the cockpit. “Are we really worth so little?”

“Oh, Mantis.” The last edge of Quill’s defiance broke, and he moved past the chair to wrap her in his arms. She immediately placed her head on his shoulder, so Loki could no longer see her face, but only that of the captain, and her gently glowing antennae. “I’m sorry,” Quill said hurriedly. “I’m sorry, of course you’re right. I’ll do better, I swear, okay? Just- please don’t cry Mantis. It’s okay. You guys are worth plenty. _Please_ don’t cry.”

Mantis sniffled. “So you will go to sleep?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Quill said quickly. “I’m so sorry, Mantis. I should have thought-”

“It’s okay.” Mantis picked her head up from his shoulder and smiled at him for a half-second, one of those full-face smiles that lit up her whole face, but then drooped her gaze uncertainly. “I did not mean to make you feel guilty Peter,” she said, and Loki had to hold back a reaction – that was clearly exactly what she had intended – but Quill was quick to reassure.

“No, of course not Mantis, you could never. None of this is your fault, you hear me?”

Mantis nodded solemnly. “Yes, Peter.” She looked up suddenly with a piercing gaze. “You promise to go to sleep?” she checked.

“Right away,” Peter promised instantly. “If it makes you forgive me.”

Mantis held his gaze a moment longer, and then was apparently satisfied, because she switched to a wheedling tone of voice and said, “Peeeter, can we do something fun tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Peter returned instantly, clearly relieved to have apparently cheered her up. “Like what?”

“Like…” Mantis pretended obviously to think about it. “Reigil Four?” she said innocently.

Peter let out a breath. “Mantis-”

“Since you care so much about the crew,” she added, and Quill ran his tongue over his teeth, obviously trying to work up the strength to say no, until she widened her eyes even more and he sighed in defeat.

“Oh, alright,” he said. “But you have to be the one to tell our mystery passenger that we’re delaying our trip for a snow-planet.” Mantis nodded happily, her smile stretching wider. “Just let me have a look at the flight path now,” Quill continued, stepping towards the console, only to be blocked by Mantis.

“Sleep first,” she said firmly. “Or I will rescind my forgiveness.”

“ _Rescind_ your forgiveness, huh?” Quill asked. Mantis nodded solemnly. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, kiddo. I’ll check in the morning.” Mantis’s smile was instantly back full force, and Quill chuckled gruffly, pulling her into one last hug. “Goodnight then,” he mumbled into her hair, and Loki barely had time to slip back from the door and into the shadows of the corridor before Quill was jogging down the steps and past him in the direction of the captain’s quarters, with what Loki was fairly certain was moisture in his eyes.

Mantis remained facing after his departing form, but her thousand-megawatt smile faded as Loki watched, until she was left looking just as leaden and blank as before. He didn’t dare move while she was staring in his direction, but then she turned, and sat quietly down in the captain’s chair facing away from him, a silhouette against the night sky. Loki deliberated briefly, and then instead of heading back to his own bed, as he had planned, he went carefully up the same stairs Quill had just descended.

His presence was not noticed until he slipped into the co-pilot’s chair beside her, fixing his own gaze on the night sky too. Mantis startled when he sat down, reminding him slightly of a bird about to take flight, before she settled again and regarded him softly.

“I think we are going to stay around this planet for another day before we leave,” she told him gently. “I hope you do not mind the delay. We are going to-”

“Reigil Four?” Loki interrupted innocuously, enjoying her moment of confused silence.

“Yes,” she answered suspiciously; then, when he did not respond, her voice softened again: “The crew could use a break.”

Loki held his peace for a moment more, but couldn’t resist saying, “I do believe that’s the first true thing you’ve said all evening.”

“You _were_ listening!” Mantis accused, turning to frown at him.

“Shh!” Loki hushed mockingly. “You’ll wake all those people you worked so hard to get to sleep.” He turned to grin at her in his turn and she harrumphed slightly.

“Do not tell Peter you heard that,” she said at last. “He already dislikes you; it is possible he would drop you out the airlock.” Loki inclined his head in acknowledgement, and the silence stretched for a moment more.

“Groot’s obstinance was your doing too, then?” he asked eventually.

Mantis rolled her eyes and nodded simultaneously. “I owe him my dessert for the next three weeks,” she informed him gloomily.

“Ah. My condolences.” For a brief moment, the atmosphere felt a little more relaxed in the face of their light speech, but then that evening’s enduring heaviness returned to settle around them once more, and Loki watched as Mantis’s eyes grew dark again, though they were yet filled with the reflection of stars.

“What happened, Mantis?” he asked at last.

Her head drooped lower to her chest, and she pulled her legs up onto the chair where she could wrap her arms around them. “There were children in the warehouse,” she said, after a moment. Her mouth opened as if to say more, but gave up and closed it after a few breaths, eyes still expressionless. They both knew Loki was no idiot; he could fill in the blanks.

“Did you-” he gestured to her hands. “You know.”

Her expression did not change as she related: “Yes. They were very frightened.”

“I can imagine,” said Loki neutrally.

Mantis shrugged. “It was nothing new.”

Mantis sounded unsettlingly wooden, considering the subject matter, and before he quite meant to, Loki was responding. “Unwanted memories?” he murmured.

Mantis blinked as if she really hadn’t considered it, and uncurled slightly. “No.” Re-curled, not fooling either of them. “Maybe. You tell me.”

An uncomfortable feeling rose in Loki’s chest. “I’ll have to yield to your expertise,” he said, not very convincingly; but if Mantis noticed, she made no comment.

They sat without further sound for a long while, the only evidence of time’s passage the tiny glowing display of numbers at the helm. Loki discovered that the relative void of noise in which they sat allowed him to easily replace his surroundings, and he found himself thinking inexplicably of Asgard’s night sky from the long days of his youth, which seemed now so far away.

“I used to watch them every night,” Mantis said suddenly, face turned up towards the stars, and Loki had to struggle to hide his surprise at how closely she had hit upon his own thoughts. “The stars were always very clear where I grew up.” She seemed to realise all at once exactly what she was saying and bent nervously back down towards her lap, as if hiding her face could mask her unplanned burst of openness. She glanced up at him again though, and held his gaze with sudden force, as if desperately trying to communicate something. “It’s strange how much colder they seem now than they used to,” she said intently. Loki shifted uneasily in his seat, but found himself unable to look away from the unexpected intensity in her eyes.

“Are you-” he coughed and tried again. “Do you intend to get Drax, too?” he asked finally, and the tension dissipated.

“No,” Mantis said, sitting back in her chair and turning her bright eyes skywards again. “Drax needs very little sleep. And if he is tired, he will rest.”

“Well, he did look tired,” Loki said. “But unless he sharpens his knives in his sleep, I do not think he is resting.”

Mantis hesitated. “Perhaps I will check on him in an hour,” she allowed.

Loki didn’t bother asking if she was going to sleep; it was clear she would not do so that night. So, forty-five minutes later they exited the ship to find that Drax had indeed gone to bed of his own accord, much to Loki’s surprise. Deciding that the air in the ship had become too heavy to contemplate returning to the _Benetar’s_ interior, he and Mantis chose rather to climb easily on top of it, where they could contemplate the sky free of any intervening glass. It didn’t make the stars appear any less cold, but the wind was brisk and clean, and the air smelled of pine, so they sat in silence, and did not descend for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you are. Significantly more serious than the first chapter, but I hope you aren't too disappointed! I gave them a snow-planet next chapter, at least, and this chapter is not without hope :)
> 
> I am very curious as to just how much people think Mantis was faking it with Peter. I know, and I'll tell you if you ask, but it's also slightly up to interpretation.
> 
> Something which is becoming very apparent is that I have managed to pick not just one, but two characters who do not show their feelings, and yet can also communicate on an instinctual level, which is fun, so I'd love to know how much of the subtext gets across, or if certain things just become odd. (Eg. final line is a metaphor.) I also tried really hard to get the subdued, ship-at-night feel in this, which meant I had to feel it, even at midday, making for a weird couple of days. Love to you all :)
> 
> \- The Book the Dragon Saved
> 
> P.S. Happy New Year!


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